A/N : Disclaimer : See profile. Additional disclaimer : the following piece of silliness was written while under the influence of an overdose of caffeine and oat and raisin cookies due to intense badgering by Kay. It's just for fun, probably OTT, more than a little OOC and definitely not to be taken seriously.
The Perils of Post-its!
It was a good dream. A very good dream. He felt warm and relaxed, his limbs heavy and languid. He revelled in the comfort desperately clinging onto the last vestiges of his rapidly fading dream. He could feel reality gently nudging him. He ignored it. But it persisted. He tried to resist it but the memory inevitably evaporated, leaving him only with the impression of a good dream. He knew he was smiling.
Something intruded into his semi-conscious state, something irritating. He wiggled his nose but it refused to go away. He forced a heavy lid open just a crack and tried to see what it was but to no avail. He concentrated hard and opened the other eye. He blinked. His whole world appeared to have turned a strange shade of lime green. He frowned or tried to. Something was preventing him drawing his brows together. With an almost Herculean effort he managed to get through to his befuddled brain that something was covering his face and that it needed to move his hand and remove the offending object.
He groaned as every muscle in his body protested at the movement but eventually his hand reached his face. His fingers explored the object.
Approximately two inches by four. Paper. Trace of glue on upper edge.
The scientific part of the brain kicked in first. He marshalled his fingers and pulled the paper away from his face. He could feel the slight tug of his skin as the glue was pulled away. He blinked again and looked at the paper. He turned it round and screwed up his eyes trying to focus on the words written there. Just three words written in short stubby capitals with a black pen:
'NO SUDDEN MOVES!'
"What the hell?" He sat up.
Big mistake!
His stomach protested and bile rose in his throat. The room heaved and lurched and began to spin and an entire symphony orchestra of drummers took up residence inside his skull. He collapsed back into the pillows, squeezing his eyes tight shut and waited for things to calm down. He took several deep breaths and the nausea abated slightly. He licked his lips realizing how dry they were. His whole mouth seemed to be devoid of saliva. Little by little the drummers stopped until the symphony was replaced with a dull little quartet. Clearly he should have heeded the note. He lay there quietly, grateful that he was lying in bed.
Bed, his brain squawked!
Like some subliminal image that he hadn't realized he'd seen, a picture popped into his mind, that of purple sheets with strange psychedelic whorls. Not plain beige!
He risked opening an eye. The room behaved itself. He risked opening the other one and stared at the bed. He blinked but the purple psychedelic whorls refused to transform themselves into sensible plain beige.
Not his bed!
Very slowly he swivelled his eyes to the left. A night-stand stood there screaming at him. Not literally screaming but the messages written in short stubby capitals did. Attached to the porcelain lamp was a note that said, 'STAY PUT! BACK SOON!' Another sitting at a jaunty angle on a high-ball glass ordered him to 'DRINK ME!' and another attached to a box of painkillers recommended. 'TAKE TWO!' It all sounded very sensible to him especially the second. His desperate need for water overcame his curiosity and very gingerly he pulled himself into a semi-recumbent position, half propped up among the pillows like a Roman senator. He reached for the glass and was shocked to find that his hand was trembling. He concentrated and managed to guide it to his lips downing half the glass in one go. He replaced it on the night-stand.
The effort of drinking had left him exhausted and he sank back into the pillows with a sigh. His urgent need for a drink quenched, he turned his attention to the room. A row of fitted cupboards covered one wall, their gold drop handles gleaming brightly in the sun that peeped through the gaps in the Venetian blinds that covered the windows on the opposite wall. There was a closed door set to the right of the bed. Next to it was a large dresser. He blinked. Alarm bells began to ring. He stared at the dresser not quite willing to believe what his eyes were telling him. He stared at the basket of cosmetics, the brushes, the jewellery box, a slim elegant jewellery stand in the shape of a white tree that was bedecked with a multitude of beads, bracelets and necklaces, many of which he recognised. He snapped his eyes shut and opened them again. Nothing changed. Then a thought struck him. He froze not wanting to admit that it was true but the question niggled away at him. He knew what the answer was but he had to look anyway. He lifted the bedcover and dropped it again immediately. He groaned throwing an arm across his face.
Not his bed! Not his pyjamas! Not good!
.
Danny staggered down the hall using the walls for support. He stubbed his toe against a discarded shoe that lay abandoned in the passageway, stumbled and stepped on a small plastic figurine. He swore under his breath and hopped the rest of the way into the living room. The walls seemed to move back and forth and the floor swayed under him. He blundered his way over to the couch and gripped the back of it steadying himself until the carpet beneath his feet felt solid again. He leaned on his hands, closed his eyes and slowly breathed in and out. His legs felt like jelly. He wiggled his toes acutely aware of the roughness of the broadloom beneath them. His fingers gently rubbed the fabric of the sofa. He sniffed and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his nostrils. Right at that moment he felt the desperate need for caffeine. His head felt like someone had used it as a battering ram, then removed the brain and replaced it with cotton wool. Coffee was good. All he had to do was make it to the kitchen but at that moment it seemed like an insurmountable trek.
The couch snored.
Danny shot out his skin. His eyes flew open and he lurched backwards. "What the hell?" He peered over the back of the couch. A large blue mound moved and groaned. Danny flinched and tentatively reached out to grab a handful of cover. He pulled it back and the creature underneath moaned.
"Nooo. Too early baby!"
"Adam?!"
Adam rolled over and opened an eye. He cringed as he caught sight of Danny and pulled the cover up to his chin.
"Danny?!" he slurred. "What you doin' here?"
Danny stared at him in amazement. "I live here. What are you doing here?" Adam looked around in astonishment.
They stared at one another in silence realizing that neither of them could answer that particular question. A banging came from the kitchen accompanied by some carefree whistling. Danny turned around and Adam struggled into a sitting position to peer over the back of the couch. A strange apparition dressed only in jeans, tee-shirt and a red polka-dot apron materialised in the doorway holding two mugs.
"Thought I heard signs of life." Don Flack sauntered over to them grinning from ear to ear. "You two look like shit!" he added cheerfully. "Here, have some coffee." His face took on a worried expression as he looked at Adam who was slowly turning a very pale shade of green. "Oh man! You're not going to throw up are you? Cos Linds'll kill me if I let you throw up on her couch."
Adam made a strange gulping sound. Don thrust the cups at Danny, pulled back the cover and grabbed Adam's arm dragging him to the bathroom. He pushed him in the direction of the toilet and closed the door wincing at the indelicate sounds that emanated from the other side. He looked at Danny who was swaying slightly and then dashed back, grabbed the coffees putting them on the credenza before helping Danny to an armchair where he collapsed his head in his hands. He then realized that the sounds from the bathroom had ceased. He dashed back. "You all right in there?" There was a strange grunting noise which he took for a yes.
The doorbell rang.
"Reinforcements." Don sighed with relief and went to open the door. Sheldon Hawkes stood on the doormat with his medical bag. He raised an eyebrow at the red polka-dot apron. Don followed his gaze. "What?" he asked irritably. "I do domestic!" He let a highly amused Sheldon in.
"So how are the patients?"
Don shrugged. "Well they woke up a few minutes ago. Ross is in the bathroom throwing his guts up and Danny … well … see for yourself." They walked into the living room. Sheldon winced. He didn't look good. "That'll teach them to party half the night," sniggered Don. Sheldon tried not to smile.
The bathroom door opened and the two men turned to see Adam totter out looking like death warmed up. "My head," he moaned as he leant against the door frame. Sheldon looked at Don with barely disguised amusement as Adam wobbled his way back to the couch reaching for the comforter like a thirsty man in the desert.
Sheldon decided that it wasn't the moment to comment on the Giants tee-shirt and matching Betty Boop boxer shorts and socks set, and instead walked over to the table and opened his bag. "Well I've brought you something to help with that." There was an appreciative groan from the two men.
"What happened?" muttered Danny without moving his head from his hand.
Don and Sheldon exchanged glances. "What do you remember?" asked Don tentatively.
Danny began to shake his head but then thought better of it. "Agh! I dunno. It's all a blur. I think it was raining."
Don began to laugh but managed to smother it. "How about you Adam?" There was no reply. "Adam?" Don peered over the back of the couch but Adam was just staring into space. He followed his gaze and realized that he wasn't staring into space, he was staring at the TV in the corner of the room that had been left on but with the sound turned down.
"Danny!" Adam gasped, his face a mask of horror.
"What?" Danny didn't move. It was too much effort.
"Danny! I think … I think we're on TV!"
.
Jo headed for the break room carrying her mug. She found Lindsay there getting coffee. Jo thought Lindsay looked as tired as she felt. Lindsay leaned against the counter with a sly little smile. "So Jo, how's your patient this morning?"
Jo tried to glare but failed as the corners of her mouth turned up. "Sleeping like a baby!" She flipped on the kettle and rinsed out her mug in the sink. She could feel Lindsay's eyes on her.
"So are you going to tell me what happened?"
Jo opened the cupboard and pulled a tea bag from the box marked with a bright blue sticky note that informed everyone that it was: 'JO'S. HANDS OFF!' She purposely didn't answer and made a show of making tea.
"Oh come on Jo! What was he like?"
Jo stirred her tea and discarded the bag. She flashed a wide smile at Lindsay. "Playful," she answered. "Very playful!" Lindsay's eyes opened wide. With a little shake of her head that set her ear-rings swinging Jo installed herself on a bar stool and blew at the mug of steaming tea. She decided it was time to change the subject. "How are Danny and Adam?"
Lindsay rolled her eyes and huffed. "I thought having a party for twelve six year old's was bad. This was way worse. I don't think my neighbours are going to talk to me for weeks. Thank God for Don. I don't know what I would have done without him. He's taking care of them for me and Sheldon said he'd stop by and check them out." Then a thought struck her. "You didn't leave him on his own did you?"
Jo smiled and looked at her watch. "Don't worry. The baby-sitters should be swapping over about now."
.
His first thought had been to make a run for it. The problem was that his clothes were nowhere to be seen. He looked at the note attached to the porcelain lamp and swore. He was lying there searching the depths of his brain for the reason behind his current predicament when muted noises alerted him to someone moving around the apartment. He listened carefully. There was a series of dull bangs and clicks. Someone spoke in low tones. A man. Someone answered. A woman. Then the series of dull bangs and clicks was repeated. After a few seconds the door handle began to move. The door opened a few inches and a disembodied head appeared.
"Oh good, you're awake!" The door opened fully and the man stepped in, a look of fatherly concern on his face. "I must say that you look worse that some of my patients in autopsy. How do you feel?"
"Sid?" Mac knew he was staring open-mouthed. Of all the people who could have stepped through the door the eccentric M.E. had been last on the list. "What are you doing … what am I … how did I …? Oh God!"
Sid Hammerback had to laugh. For the first time in his life he was witnessing his colleague and good friend at a total loss for words. The look of utter embarrassment on his face made Sid feel for him. He looked totally wretched.
"Relax Mac, you're not the first man to find himself in this situation." He cringed at a long lost memory. "Myself included … although I was a lot younger at the time." Mac groaned, fell back against the pillows and covered his face.
"What have I done? What the hell happened?"
"Take it easy Mac. One thing at a time." Sid walked over to the bed and put down a carrier bag. "Jo asked me to pop over to your place and bring you some fresh clothes." Mac groaned and Sid didn't think it was due to the headache he knew he must have. Sid put his medical kit next to it frowning at the old scar on his friend's chest. He wondered when he had acquired that but now wasn't the time to talk about past injuries. The present ones concerned him more. "But I'd better take a look at that first. Did you take some pain-killers?"
"Pain-killers?" Mac pulled his arm away from his face and looked at him blankly.
Sid tapped his head just near his hairline. Mac mirrored his actions, his fingers delicately exploring the large bump on his head covered by a dressing. His face took on a look of confusion.
"It's perfectly normal. One of the side-effects of the drugs is being oblivious to pain and let's face, you've got a head start in that department."
Mac's jaw dropped. "Drugs? What drugs?"
Sid winced. "Ah! Yes, well that's a long story. How much do you remember about last night?"
Curiosity mixed with a hint of panic getting the better of him, Mac hitched himself up onto the pillows with a grimace. Sid didn't fail to see him grab the covers and pull them a little higher but he didn't wish to add to his friend's mortification more than he had to so he kept a straight face. "I dunno. Bits and pieces. It's not clear. I remember … I was at the crime scene. I was processing the back office." He fell silent for a moment closing his eyes. "There was this note ... half under a filing cabinet ..." His eyes flew open as a horde of disjointed images flashed through his brain. Danny! Adam! His heart leapt and he suddenly felt sick. "Oh God, Sid!"